


Hide and Seek

by authoressnebula (authoressjean)



Series: Childhood Games [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Big Brother Dean Winchester, Brotherly Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Episode: s05e04 The End, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean Winchester, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 19:10:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20263102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/pseuds/authoressnebula
Summary: Sequel to Lost and Found: After the funeral, Dean tries to find his little brother who's buried under all the guilt.





	Hide and Seek

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from LiveJournal 2010. This tiny little series wraps up with Dean's POV and, hopefully, leaves both the boys in a better, stronger place: as brothers.

It's hard, watching Sam. Not that Dean's forcing himself to watch his brother for whatever reasons Sam might think, and Dean can think of a good dozen off the top of his head. Like that Dean doesn't trust Sam, that he hates him. Crap that Dean keeps trying to shove out of Sam's head, crap that Sam keeps putting right back in there. Outside of shoving his brother into a chair and shouting that he loves him, Dean's not exactly sure how to get him to listen. And as terrible and chick-flick-ish as it is, Dean's tempted to do it. If it wouldn't get him sprayed with holy water in the process.  
  
But this is a different kind of watching Sam. This is watching Sam and trying to gauge when the kid's gonna break. Like he did a few days ago in the motel room.  
  
As soon as Sam sat up in bed Dean knew it was bad. His constant swallowing, the way he curled up into as small a person as he could, the way he clutched at the phone. Dean could hear the cries of a woman through the phone, and when Sam tried to ask for details, Dean knew what had happened, even if he didn't know who had died. Knew well before Sam had closed his eyes and started to cry.  
  
But it was the tears in his brother's eyes, the way he shook and bit his lip and suddenly looked so _lost_ that made Dean move to take the phone, to talk to Amy and sort out Tom's funeral. All while Sam sat tensed beside him, as if waiting to get hit or yelled at. God.  
  
He still sort of looks like that. Broken, like he doesn't know what to do. For now, Amy and Lindsay are guiding points, and Sam reacts to what they need or what they say. In a few minutes, Dean will go over and gently pull Sam away. He's getting that frown, that small furrow in his brow, that tells Dean that a headache's on the way.  
  
God, when did Heaven and Hell manage to pull them so apart? Dean hasn't told Sam about the future Zachariah laid out before him. He's not sure he will. It'll only break Sam further, try and tell him the wrong message. That Sam will always end up as Lucifer's skin.  
  
He won't see the other message, that they need to be together. They're stronger that way. Dean got enticed by Heaven's beauty and peace just as much as Sam got wrapped up in Ruby's offer of power and revenge. All that glistens is not gold and all that shit. Both ends of the spectrum wound up spouting bull, and Dean's determined to make Sam see that. That Dean got conned as much as Sam did.  
  
The last few days have been rough. Dean's moved Sam from the car to motels, from motels to Lindsay's house, Lindsay's to funeral homes and grocery stores and everywhere and anywhere Lindsay needs help. Sam's sort of just been...lost. Drifting on a sea of emptiness. It's the kind of numb that Dean recognizes, the same feeling he felt when their dad died. Except instead of stepping over the numb into anger, Sam's just staying in the empty despair. Like he doesn't know which way to go, and it scares Dean.  
  
He knows the kid's head is full of more guilt and anguish then he could ever hope to absolve, even if Dean already has. Telling Sam that isn't going to help. Sam's impervious to words now. It was a string of words that broke him: Zachariah's, Ruby's, Castiel's. Dean's. There was damage done Dean's not sure he can fix.  
  
But god help him, he won't stop trying. If the words tore him apart, banished him to some land of guilt, self-hatred, and emptiness, then maybe it'll be actions that bring him back. Hide and seek was never Dean's favorite game as a kid: it'd always been Sam's.  
  
Dean's willing to play for Sam, though. Always was.  
  
Lindsay's falling apart again. Not that he can blame her. Coaxing the story from Sam was surprisingly easy, but then again, it wasn't Sam's story or his thoughts. It was Lindsay and Tom's and a love that was doomed to end within six to twelve months. He's gotta give it to her: Lindsay didn't take the coward's way out. She loved Tom, and from what Sam's told him, till death do them part started well before the ceremony for her. That's what she told Tom, at any rate. It's left her a young widow with barely enough insurance to cover the funeral expenses, but family and friends came together. Sam apparently even had a small fund set aside for them. Waiting for today.  
  
It just makes Dean all the more sure that Lucifer won't have his brother. That Dean made the right choice to bring Sam back. His brother _is_ a good man.  
  
Just a matter of getting Sam to see it, that's all.  
  
Amy and other friends are surrounding Lindsay to comfort her, but instead of being on the front line, like he's been for the most part these past few days, Sam's stepping away. That's Dean's cue. He makes his way through the church to Sam's side, carefully takes Sam by the elbow, and steers him away towards the exit. Funeral's over, and now comes the celebration of the life Tom had. He catches Amy's eye and she nods ever so slightly. She understands that Sam's been through something bad recently. She'll tell Lindsay why Sam isn't at the restaurant. She'll take care of Lindsay through the rest of today.  
  
It's time for someone to take care of Sam, and Dean's up for that job. Dean's always been up for that job.  
  
Once they're outside, the tension all throughout Sam just sort of disappears, and Sam deflates in front of him. “You okay?” Dean can't help but ask quietly. Tom was a good friend of Sam's, apparently. Meant a lot to him in college, helped him out when Dean and John couldn't be there.  
  
Sam doesn't nod, but he does give an answer, which is more than Dean expected. “I hate churches,” he mumbles, and it's not the words Dean expected to hear, and they're ten times worse. It's a modern church, nothing like the small, old church where Lucifer rose.  
  
But it's still a church. It's still a place that reminds his brother of where God was absent and Lucifer was allowed entrance.  
  
Dean takes in a deep breath that's silent. “C'mon,” he says softly, ushering Sam to the car. He doesn't miss the sigh of relief Sam gives as soon as he's in the passenger seat. He's been doing it for days, like he's scared he won't be allowed to sit there anymore.  
  
Suddenly Dean is hit with the urge again to push Sam into a chair and shout love and promises at him, like a guy in the end of a chick-flick, where the orchestra swells with a soft love song and the girl makes doe eyes at him and then the camera pans out while some song with appropriate lyrics plays into the credits.  
  
Okay, so Dean's seen his share of chick-flicks, shut up. Didn't take many to see a pattern, and the point is that Dean's willing to do it for Sam. Dean's what helped bring any trust Sam's had in their relationship crashing to the ground. Therefore, Dean's gonna be the one that fixes it. He has to. For both of their sakes.  
  
The drive back to the motel is both quiet and tense. Not between them; at least, Dean doesn't think so. But Sam's still staring at nothing on the dashboard and when Dean catches sight of his brother's fingers grasping the side of the seat, that's it. He pulls off into the nearest parking lot – big shopping center, from the looks of it – and brings the car to park. The Impala doesn't like getting thrown around, but he's certain she'll forgive him. He brought her second passenger back to where he belonged, and now he's making sure Sam knows it's permanent.  
  
He steps out of the car and glances around out of habit, but no, all the other cars are parked much closer to the actual stores. Out here, it's them, a few trees and bushes arranged in what's supposed to be an enticing, clean pattern, and the road they just pulled off of. The sky's clear and bright, and maybe that'll help. Gray skies make them both nervous: too dismal and despairing. It was nothing but gray skies in the futuristic world without Sam.  
  
Sam hasn't gotten out of the car yet. Dean slowly walks over, making sure he's as non-threatening as he can be. “Sammy?” he says softly, pulling the door open. Sam's still staring at the dashboard, but his fingers are tighter in the seat, almost to the point where the leather's gonna start squeaking if he doesn't let go. “Sammy?” he tries again.  
  
“Thought we were going back to the motel,” Sam asks in a low tone. It's not a good tone. It's a tone that suggests that Sam thinks it's the end of the road, get out please.  
  
Dean's got a tone for him, though. One that promises it's no more getting out, ever. Just the two of them, the way it was supposed to be before angels and demons stuck their heads and asses into everything.  
  
“We are,” Dean promises. “I wanted to know where you wanted to go after this.”  
  
That startles Sam out of wherever his head was, and he turns to Dean with wide eyes and a frown. “I thought we had the hunt,” he says. “The one you had picked out, before...before Amy called,” he adds quietly, his eyes skirting away again.  
  
“We could,” Dean says. “Other places we can go, too.” He emphasizes the 'we', but keeps it in the same voice he's been using on Sam for days: the gentle, guiding, voice of a big brother. He keeps hoping that eventually, the little brother in Sam will recognize it for what it is and accept that Dean wants him around.  
  
It's not this time. Sam's got his gaze locked on his hands now, which are both in his lap. His fingers twist the edge of the suit, wrinkling the material. “Tom was a good guy,” he says, choking a little. “He didn't deserve to die.”  
  
This conversation could go a million and one ways, but Dean's not about to start guiding it. He squats down beside the seat, next to Sam, and waits. He's there, and now Sam knows it.  
  
Sam draws in a breath. “When Lindsay called me, told me, it was a sucker-punch. Two weeks after I lost my real big brother, I find out that somewhere up ahead, I'm gonna lose my pseudo-college one, too.”  
  
Dean shuts his eyes tight. He guessed, based on what Amy and Lindsay told him about Sam and Tom's friendship in college, but he didn't know it was that much.  
  
“He reminded me of you,” Sam whispers, and his fingers tighten impossibly further in the material. “He was never a replacement, he was just...he was the guy that would be there at two in the morning for whatever reason, the guy you played pool with, the guy who walked you home after you were drop-down drunk and listened to you ramble on about how much you missed your real big brother-”  
  
Sam's voice sort of disappears after that, fades away into two harsh swallows that leave Sam looking more tired and empty than before. He does glance at Dean, a quick glance to the side, and Dean realizes it's up to him now.   
  
As much as Sam loved hide and seek, he sucked at it. He'd always give himself up. Always. And now, just like when he was a kid, he's peeking around the edges, not so much hiding any more but really desperately wanting to be found. Except this time, he's not stifling giggles and waiting to hear Dean's ridiculous loud voice claiming how totally unable he is to find Sam.  
  
Dean reaches out and catches Sam's shoulder. “He sounds like he was a great guy,” he says softly, in the same big brother voice. “But what makes me know that he was is that he was there for you when I couldn't be.” _I'm here now._ “I wish I could've met him, told him how much that mattered to me.” _How much keeping you safe matters._  
  
Dean takes in a deep breath. “You wanna stick around to see Lindsay tomorrow? Or Amy? Just let me know, and I'll make it happen.” _I'm not going anywhere without you._  
  
Sam stares at the dashboard again, but slowly, slowly, the tension ebbs away. He glances over at Dean again, this time, with shining eyes. “You wouldn't mind?” he asks roughly, but there's hope or something like it there. He doesn't look as empty. For the first time in weeks, he looks like he knows Dean isn't going to haul him out of the car and leave him behind. He looks like the little brother Dean always knew was there. Trusting Dean to take care of it, to keep him safe.  
  
Dean gives him a small smile and squeezes Sam's shoulder. “No, Sammy,” he says quietly. “I would never mind.”  
  
The corners of Sam's lips try to lift, but they don't get very far before the tears start to trail down his face. Dean doesn't say anything, just tugs at Sam's shoulder until his brother follows. His little brother's not as little as he used to be, but he still fits with his forehead tucked between Dean's neck and shoulder, fingers clutching a little too desperately in the back of Dean's suit. It's not all gonna go away in one small moment while the world crashes down around them. Dean might be accused of being one, but he's really not an idiot.  
  
Let it come, though. Let the apocalypse start, let the angels be dicks and do whatever they want.  
  
_Found you,_ Dean thinks as Sam clings to him, and he does his best to cling back.


End file.
